


Wraith

by goldenzingy46



Series: Tomarry Works [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ghost Tom Riddle, Ginny Weasley Dies, Horror, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Kissing, Psychological Horror, idk this is just. ahhh bad for brain, light horror??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenzingy46/pseuds/goldenzingy46
Summary: A disrupted ritual, and Harry's perfect life spirals out of control as he is (literally) haunted by Voldemort once more.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Tomarry Works [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091711
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60
Collections: distractions 💬 halloween big bang 2020





	Wraith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowy_Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Snowy_Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Rain/pseuds/Snowy_Rain) in the [Distractions_Halloween_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Distractions_Halloween_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> After the Battle of Hogwarts, 1998, Harry Potter has settled into his life as a responsible, good man. He has a wonderful relationship with Ginny Weasley, an active job as a Junior Auror, reliable friends and a found family.
> 
> One day, after disrupting a ritual on the job, a familiar ghost seeps into his new life.
> 
> (Ghost Tom haunting the fuck out of Harry and being VERY CREEPY about it, to the point of mindfuckery)

“Open up!” Harry yells, the door splintering under his Auror-issue boot. The ritual allegedly being performed was one supposed to bring back Voldemort, and that was very illegal and, well, very much against Harry’s own morals.

He blasted the ritual to pieces, handcuffing the perpetrators.

“Good luck seeing anything but the inside of Azkaban,” he said, passing them over to his backup team.

He shivered, the air thick and heavy with something all too wrong.

Even the basic Auror training said _don’t interrupt a ritual._

***

Harry isn’t sure when he become aware that his hand is shaking as he tries to file a report. He isn’t sure why it’s shaking, either, as it is fairly warm, and he is not scared nor cold.

His hand does not stop shaking, quill leaving a streak across the parchment.

He resolves to write it later.

***

It takes two days before ice forms in his teacup, Ginny rolling her eyes and muttering about faulty heat wards when he tells her.

He does not tell her that he thinks he hears a voice.

He does not tell her about the ritual.

He does not tell her that Voldemort may rise again.

He does not wish to believe that himself.

***

“ _Haaaaaaaarrrrrryyyyyyyyy…”_ a voice calls out to him in the dark. Harry rolls over, face nuzzling Ginny’s back, absorbing her warmth, eyes screwed shut and unwilling to face the owner of the voice.

Green eyes turn red in the mirror. Harry turns around.

He thinks he feels an icy hand trailing down his spine, a wisp of icy air by his ear, and he tugs the blanket closer around him, a childhood belief that it will somehow protect him from the monsters in the dark.

He knows that nothing can protect him from Tom Riddle.

He knows.

***

Ginny’s smile changed, a mockery, a sneer, hazel eyes red and ginger hair elegantly styled brown.

Harry breathes, and Ginny’s arms catch him as he falls, her concerned voice calling out to him

_Tom Riddle, catch me if you can…_

***

When Harry awoke, limbs heavy with exhaustion and eyes still shut, he felt like his chest was being crushed, breaths caught in his throat. His eyes were like lead, dragging them open felt like it took hours, the darkness of the room somehow worse than keeping them shut.

That’s when he made the grievous mistake of trying to move. Limbs frozen into the ground, pinned out like a starfish – how could he not have noticed? He was vulnerable to an attack by anyone at all.

Anyone being _Lord goddamn Voldemort._

“Hello, Harry,” he said.

_Oh hell no._

***

Tom Riddle the Ghost was actually not… ugly. He had all the features of his sixteen-year-old self, albeit older, and burning crimson eyes that weren’t exactly unattractive.

Harry really wished he could unthink thoughts.

If he had been capable of closing his eyes, he would’ve, but whatever unholy spell brought Riddle back from his resting place held him down to the ground, the clearly tangible ghost-like creature holding Harry as his mercy.

Tom Riddle held no mercy.

“Tell me, Harry,” he whispered, in his ear, “How are you any better than me?”

Tom strode (glided?) across the room, throwing his arms out in front of him. “How are you any better than the sinners you have prosecuted, than the people you have killed?”

Riddle paused. “Don’t even think about lying to me. You’ve killed in the line of duty. You used unforgiveable spells to bring me down. Why, you’ve been a murderer since eleven!”

Harry would have swallowed had he had any control over his body.

“You are no better than me.”

Then he was gone, and the door opened, revealing Ginny.

Ginny, except her limbs stuck out at odd angles, a leg trailing behind her caked in dried blood, neck broken and, _oh,_ Ginny—

Her eyes were red.

She hit the floor.

Harry tried to scream out, to cry for help, to deny her death at the hands of a monster, but he couldn’t. Could do nothing but lie there, silently, and see the truth.

Riddle materialised in front of him, leaning down so his face was right up against Harry’s, cool gusts of air freezing his face, noses brushing.

“Don’t you see, Harry? You are poison.”

_Poison._

The thought of all his friends dying, staring at him with accusing faces flitted through his mind, then disappeared, replaced with Cedric, hit with a killing curse so long ago, Sirius, tumbling through the veil, Dumbledore, falling from the tower, Fred hitting the ground still laughing, Remus and Tonks, _dead—_

“None of them would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

Tom had done this to him.

“Harry, Harry, are you sad?” Tom mocked. “Do you _miss_ them?”

Riddle came closer, hand running down the side of Harry’s face. “You look delicious, darling.”

_No. No, no, no, no._

Hands trailed down his neck, tracing his collarbones and being ever so gentle, feather-light, and repulsive in every way. They dropped down to his shoulder, familiarising themselves with his arms, his chest, and going ever lower. Harry tried to buck away, to scream, to fight, but remained frozen. Riddle laughed.

Harry’s eyes were probably wide, desperate, and it seemed to awaken a hunger within Riddle. He cupped Harry’s face in his hands, drawing it closer to his own, velvety lips meeting Harry, ghostly teeth nipping him and tasting him.

“You must want this, Harry,” Riddle murmured. “Or surely you would fight.”

He would! Harry would fight if he could! If he had any sort of control over his own limbs he would _fight_ , claw his eyes out, and flee.

Riddle laughed, a laugh that sent shivers down his spine, his tongue dancing against Harry’s flesh, bruising Harry’s neck, reaching for the folds of Harry’s trousers when Harry found his finger twitched. Free.

Riddle roared, enabling his own control over Harry to jerk him upright.

“You love it so much you can’t help but join in, can you?” Riddle hissed, any fake smiles or platitudes long since lost.

To his horror, Harry found himself jerking to his feet, reaching out for Riddle and pulling his lips to his own, tongue sliding into the ghostly mouth of the man – the _monster_ – and smiling through the war of a kiss, like he wanted this, like he could control—

His head hit the floor, Riddle done with him for now, stars swimming across his vision.

Even without the extensive medical training the entire Auror program has been put through, Harry could tell that that was Not Good At All.

Then he was up, moving again, a jerky walk that had uncoordinated limbs move forwards, towards the open window, the gale making the curtains billow inwards.

“It would be a shame,” Riddle remarked, whatever rage that had possessed him gone, “If Harry Potter were to murder his wife then commit suicide.”

_No. No, he wouldn’t._

Except he could, Harry could tell. The likelihood that Ginny was alive was slim to none, and the clear control over Harry’s own limbs meant Riddle was perfectly capable of having Harry throw himself from this height.

Harry hadn’t made it this far only to die once more from this mockery of Voldemort.

He focused, concentrating on the feeling of his own heartbeat, the feeling of blood rushing through his veins. His life was his own. His body was his own. He would not lose to _that_.

He nearly had his own control, his own mind in his own body, when it stopped.

His heartbeat went silent, and Harry lost everything.

“Come on, Harry,” Riddle said, scarlet eyes glinting. “Join me.”

The lights flickered, once, twice, three times.

It went dark.

 _“Haaaaarrrryyyy…”_ Riddle whispered, and there was nowhere to run.

**Author's Note:**

> You could... poke your head into my [Discord server](https://discord.gg/37bXdGW)? I don't bite (much)!
> 
> Alternately, you could pop into my mess of a Tumblr [here](https://goldenzingy46.tumblr.com/), or my writing Tumblr [here](https://goldenzingy46butwriteblr.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Comments and kudos sustain me :)
> 
> [for bribe related reasons, i ask you to go and have a look at user [alfisha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfisha)'s fics, and they are a damn good writer]


End file.
